On the day of your party
Please be sure to invite
The Drunken Clown.
He offers steady humor
At a pace everyone can measure.
His drinks, give love and laughter ,
his expressions: love and empathy.
In a graded lawn he falls and tumbles,
His eyes red and bleeding,
Look to him to point and laugh.
Our drunken clown gets his payment
In full, pursuing the right wingers,
And guffawing with the left.
His sincerity bobbles in an ocean of booze.
Cheers and Slaintè to our drunken clown.
Salud, and Prost!
To our home
And I sleep the sleep
Of a thousand filtered souls,
In ungracious betterment,
And a hope to die by my own hand.
Vicious visions of a youth undocumented,
And a prayer I never have the balls to do it.
Not the wisping grasp against the parchment
That licking click of writer as he tpyes
The cold inanimates touch of skin on screen
Memories only shorter I eye aye the Scottish yes
Scrapes and scrawls on cave dwelt walls
Truncated truck trimmed in intricate trestles
Who was the first message in a bottle for
Bobbles of sheerest ink like Scottish lochs
as.morning mists turn solid for a movement
I enjoy being wrong
Keeping pictures of the dead to the soon to be
Words the unleashed an atom
Words that end wars
illlusions putting fuses to the con
My muse has left
So I better be …….gon
Not the wisping grasp against the parchment
That licking click of writer as he tpyes
The cold inanimates touch of skin on screen
Memories only shorter I eye aye the Scottish yes
Scrapes and scrawls on cave dwelt walls
Truncated truck trimmed in intricate trestles
Who was the first message in a bottle for
Bobbles of sheerest ink like Scottish lochs
as.morning mists turn solid for a movement
I enjoy being wrong
Keeping pictures of the dead to the soon to be
Words the unleashed an atom
Words that end wars
illlusions putting fuses to the con
My muse has left
So I better be …….gon
heavy heads bowing
seeds ripened enough to eat
head bobbles when picked
Bubbles
of caffeine;
Floating,
making me sweat;
Passion
bobbles around
fed on frozen coffee.
Years are piled in slouching display.
Dust bobbles on a sunlit window,
yet the small ragtag shop is dingy,
without and within.
Its second hand put downs,
left to clutter;
emblematic of one life with another.
There are other items, trinkets and
baubles, fleetingly made attractive,
in the glint of a few golden rays.
I see the ivory handle of an umbrella,
its shaft and canopy half-hidden beneath
a jumble of garments.
Could it be that its grasp
is old genuine ivory?
I see a slight surface crack
on the u-shaped hilt.
Yes, not a faux simulation,
almost definitely elephant tusk.
Shall I go in,
buy this half-buried treasure
for a paltry amount,
or should I walk away,
ecological principles intact?
Today, in the hallway
it is leaning against a small table.
It is raining.
yet I hesitate to be seen with it.
"My precious,"
I mutter to myself.
The man with launchpad hair glides by
Glowing orange in the mountain view
A red balloon bobbles by his side
The other man holds his diaper high
Blows bubbles and waves a magic wand
Hand in hand both men dance in circles
Skip right off the cliff together
Or is it to the left of heaven
As the media suggested
They kiss the world good-bye
Off to see the wizard and Jesus in the sky
And as many other constituents who can fly
He has a gargoyle on the top of his nose,
a knobby, kibbled excrescence
The gnarly nose is outstanding,
it rules his kindly face like a goblin prince.
Rose hued it is crusted with craters.
Poor old chap, I can’t help but wonder
how age and lifestyle can have led to
a Hieronymus Bosch grotesque
in living flesh.
Be careful what you eat and drink my friends,
beware of the nose that bobbles and bends,
it’s very malformed presence
could be a sign, a tale, a tell.
of a rocky road to heaven or hell.
We adorn ourselves with bells, bobbles, fringe and tassels
Our 'chic' is our own to form our attire, our home is our castle
Pick and choose for every angle of space and form - a look
A style we can call our own to fit our mood, penchant or outlook
New trends excite our willingness to display our artistic passion
Our mood, sensibility and appetite for every mode of fashion
Concepts of beauty that come in all different shapes, sizes and colors
Become a living, walking work of art for us to share with many others
Like butterflies we transform from our rustic simple cocoons
To blossom like a flower in spring brightly displayed to swoon
Its an illusion of magic, a love of change for all to behold
This passion for fashion brings us a feeling that's solid gold
November 25, 2019
Fashion Poetry Contest
Sponsor Julia Ward
“Don’t take candy from a stranger,”
My mother said,
Unless you’re dressed like Frankenstein
With a hideous mask on your head.
If Christmas is about a baby’s birth,
Why do we buy trinkets and bobbles,
For all daddy’s worth?
When that baby died,
And rose from the dead,
To celebrate they told me,
A rabbit can lay an egg.
Love to the USA
Sweatshops in Haiti
Twenty machines in row
Sewing T- shirts that say
I LOVE the USA
12:23 noon 7/ 6/ 2013
granddaughter brings home from 4th July parade bobbles, candy & t-shirt made in Haiti saying
I love USA. That was the Olympics as well as a lot of things .
Sonnet.
I touched upon a dream perfectly chorographic
as a ballet troupe of sardines avoiding predators.
A dance where no one applauds and everyone
is a loser, sad except for the mysterious beauty
of shimmering silver in a bottle- green ocean.
I touched upon a dream sparkling as fizzy wine
bobbles clung to cool glass disappearing with
plop- a momentarily rush of happiness- murmour
of voices; then the wine was still, yet for a second
the of mysterious wonder is remembered.
I touched upon a dream cold as a winter forest,
blue, frosty mist wrapped around trees; layers
of snow on the lake of recollection, but one day
a mysterious flash; and all will be remembered.
Fluffy white snow is falling;
roof tops, gardens and evergreen
trees become white jewels in the
landscape glittering in the
winter sun.
Colour blooms within every
home; tinsel, lights and family
members stressing over tangled
Christmas lights and tarnished
bobbles that were once shiny
and new.
Christmas trees dominate every
home but each one unique for
no person decorates the same;
some are tatty but still loved
all the same then yet others
are beautiful and perfect but
rarely truly appreciated.
Slowly an assortment of presents
grow at the feet of the tree,
each one covered in glittering
paper and ribbons.
Joy spreads like wildfire when
one hears carols sung, many
bring back memories of childhood;
smiles form instantly for the magic
of Christmas captures us all for
we all have an inner child that
erases all maturity regardless of age –
the magic of Christmas?
It’s alive in everyone.
Streaks of daylight
bouncing off colored glass
dancing bobbles of light
splash across the wall
Streaks of sunlight
streaming through the prism
dancing rainbows of light
splashed across the hall
Streaks of twilight
twinkling through the tears
dancing with merriment
splashed across your smile
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